Ganja Makes the Whoreclowns Go Round
by Neka1 the chic geek
Summary: Lucivar and Daemon hang out in a bathroom and get...high? If you like D/L stories then check this one out. Rated R for language and drug use.


I do not own the Black Jewels Trilogy. I am however the owner of the original characters created for this story.  
  
Neka1 note: This story takes place before Lucivar and Daemon met Janelle, but after they find out they're half brothers. I remember reading Lady Celebrae's cry for more humor fanfictions for Bishop's trilogy and I agree. These characters are so fun to play with and to write that they work well in funny stories, even goofy ones. The thought of Lucivar and Daemon getting high in a bathroom seemed funny to me, so I hope I portrayed the characters well enough in this awkward situation. Enjoy.  
  
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Ganja Makes the Whore-clowns Go Round  
  
  
  
  
  
Not only did the fact that Lucivar was now forced to serve a simpering mewling Queen irritate him, but it also bothered him that the ballroom full of witch-bitches constantly stared, bumped into him, and had the gall to gossip loudly about him as if he wasn't in plain sight.   
  
Suppressing a growl as best as he could, he swallowed his half glass of wine in one gulp. The wine wasn't enough. He couldn't wait until the party ended; he had been planning on doing some serious drinking to dull his senses. That is, if he had the chance. The new Queen he served, Cana, had better not try to drag him to bed tonight, or she was going to learn first hand that he always lived up to his violent reputation in the bedroom.   
  
He frowned when another witch-bitch "accidentally" bumped into him, swaggering by him as she provocatively swayed her hips to join Cana's entourage.   
  
Lucivar watched them for a moment, slightly amazed at how at ease they appeared to be. Were they that confident, or stupid in his opinion, to aggravate an Ebon-gray Eyrien Warlord Prince for fun? Did they really think they could avoid casualties if he were roused enough to snap a few necks, even if they had the Ring of Obedience on their side? Did they really think they could stand up to him, especially if the Sadist joined in?  
  
Quickly, he scanned the room for Daemon one last time. He had seen him a half hour ago and hadn't seen him since. At first, Lucivar had considered about coaxing the Sadist for a little fun, but for once, Lucivar didn't feel up to it. He thought about contacting Daemon on an Ebon-gray thread. He shook his head. He would save the dance with the Sadist for another time.  
  
His thoughts on Daemon were interrupted when Cana's troupe erupted in giggles. They were staring at him with hungry eyes, whispering snide remarks no doubt. Lucivar smiled at their arrogant sneers. It's your lucky night bitch, he fumed silently as he pretended not to notice their leering. I'm not up to coloring the walls with your blood. Not tonight anyway. Smiling to himself at the vision of his future retribution, he disappeared in the crowd as soon as Cana turned her back. The suffocating air was fraying his temper and nerves. The hope of relaxing with alcohol later that night seemed too long a wait and he needed to unwind now. He needed to breathe in cleaner air. He needed a bathroom.   
  
Venturing away from the crowded ballroom into the dark decorated corridors of the hall, Lucivar found a bathroom. Quietly closing the door behind him, Lucivar made himself comfortable on the shaggy rug next to the elaborate bath and shower. Calling in a small wooden box, he removed a small brown package. He then carefully unwrapped the paper, unveiling several cigarette-like sticks. They weren't filled with tobacco though; instead it contained dried ganja leaves.   
  
The ganja plant that could be used as a highly potent drug was grown only in the southern regions of Terreille, and unfortunately was getting harder to come by. It had a couple of uses, often used as a treatment by Healers when mixed with the right potions to create a painkiller, though many people just liked to smoke it for that mind-numbing freeing giddy feeling. Lucivar rarely used it, only for special occasions when he absolutely required release from stress. Since sex was out of the question, and you can't snap necks all the time, smoking ganja plant was the next best thing.   
  
Before vanishing the box he popped one into his mouth, using witchlight to light the ganja. The intoxicating drug was inhaled deeply before Lucivar exhaled with a satisfied sigh. That shit felt good.   
  
Three kinds of ganja plant existed, all distinct in color. Yellow ganja, orange ganja, and green ganja, only differed in potency strength, green being the most potent and the most expensive and demanded. Red ganja usually worked on Lucivar, considering he was a dark-Jeweled Warlord Prince, but if he wanted the strongest effect, he accepted nothing but the green. He only had a few puffs and it was already working its magic. Blissfully closing his eyes, the Eyrien prince drowned in the fumes.   
  
"Having your own personal party I see," a deep cultured voice amusingly quipped.  
  
Lucivar's eyes shot open and darted to the door where Daemon was standing with his arms crossed.   
  
Instead of inquiring how Daemon had found him, Lucivar lazily smirked and raised the ganja in his hand. "Wanna hit a little green?"  
  
"Green, eh?" Daemon grunted before locking the door. "Pulling out the good stuff tonight, Prick?"  
  
"You know me Bastard, gotta have the best."  
  
Daemon stuffed his hands in his pockets, a gesture he did often, and cocked his head to the side. "Cana must be too much for you to handle to put you into such an unsightly state."  
  
"Unsightly?"  
  
"Sprawled out on the bathroom floor smoking green. I'd say she's put you out for the night."  
  
Lucivar scoffed. "Hardly." He inhaled the green again, watching the smoke linger in the air, noting that Daemon said nothing ad he observed the Eyrien prince. It irritated Lucivar to see Daemon fight the twitch of a smile on his lips. "So?"  
  
"So what?"  
  
"Hell's fire Bastard, are you going to stare at me all night?!"  
  
Daemon allowed his smile to bloom before stepping over Lucivar's long legs to help himself to a seat on the toilet. He reached an outstretched hand. "Give it here." Soon Daemon let out a satisfied sigh after taking a deep and lengthy drag of the green. "Pretty dark," Daemon commented after examining the ganja.  
  
"Darkest green I could find." Lucivar slouched a little more. "So who are you here with?"  
  
Daemon took another puff. "Deleena, you know that. Simpering bitch. I swear Dorothea's pets grow dumber with every passing century."  
  
Lucivar snorted. "Tell me about it. Last week Cana tried to parade me around her city like some dog. It was almost as if she had an invisible leash on my neck. I was escorting her, with like- a hundred guards and she had her self important nose in the air as if to say to the citizens of Sanhedra, 'Look at me, I've tamed Dorothea's gift. I'm one bad-ass bitch.'" Lucivar nastily chuckled. "I sure bloodied her nose later that night. Literally."  
  
"And I see she so easily forgets," replied Daemon.  
  
"Oh you mean the little face she's putting on in there?" Lucivar asked, referring to the gathering in the ballroom while pointing a thumb towards the door. "She's just saving face in front of those cunts she calls friends. I've got her in check, she just doesn't know it yet. And enough about Cana, what about your queen?"  
  
"What about her?"  
  
"What about her," Lucivar repeated, snidely imitating Daemon's annoyingly calm voice. "You know what I'm talking about. How are you handling her?"  
  
Daemon passed the ganja to Lucivar before answering. "I handle Deleena like I handle all of the others. I let her think she's in control, I play the pretty, I take my punishments in stride when I piss her off, and just when she thinks she has the tiniest amount of power over me, poof-" A snap of the fingers emphasized his point. "-no more Queen. Dorothea sends me to another and the game begins again." Daemon sighed. "To tell you the truth, I'm getting bored playing the same game over and over, but Dorothea's head is hard as a rock."   
  
"Dorothea's head is harder than a rock." Lucivar began. "It's as hard as a…it's as hard as a…as hard as a, um…what's harder than a rock?" The effects of the drug were becoming apparent.   
  
"Lucivar, if Dorothea's head was any harder she'd be you."  
  
"Hardy har har."  
  
With slightly puckered lips and squinted eyes, Daemon leaned towards his brother, steepled his fingers, and rested them on his chin. "Bet I make my Queen crack before you do."  
  
Lucivar shot Daemon a suspicious look. "What's in it for me?"  
  
"I have connections in all parts of Terreille, if I speak to the right people I could make sure you have an unlimited supply of the best green."  
  
"No deal," Lucivar retorted darkly. "I'm not a green-head, Daemon."  
  
Daemon raised an eyebrow. "Could have fooled me."  
  
"Go to Hell."  
  
For that moment they sat in silence, happily smoking green and genuinely enjoying each others company. Courts feared having them together in one place frequently since many of they're reunions resulted in the destruction of entire courts or cities, which derived in a loss of Dorothea's precious queens. So it wasn't often, almost never, that they found the chance to sit and talk in peace like normal people without the world to bother them. In some ways Lucivar cherished these brief periods with his half-brother, for he was the only person he could truly share his feelings with. They were two men in the same boat, two peas in a pod. When it came down to it, he'd choose hanging with a relaxed, green-smoking Daemon than tangoing with the Sadist any day.  
  
It was the muffled chuckling that almost immediately roused Lucivar from his deep thoughts. He quickly glanced up to see nothing but a stone-faced Warlord Prince. Just as Lucivar started to close his eyes he heard the strained laughter again. This time he caught sight of Daemon struggling to hold in his whimsical laughter. The Eyrien prince remained silent as Daemon's snickering transformed into wild cackles. Lucivar watched in amazement as Daemon nearly laughed himself right of the toilet seat. The sight of the Sadist laughing like a madman practically raised Lucivar's eyebrows to his hairline. Damn! This ganja was strong.   
  
"Daemon?" Lucivar said uncertainly. "Daemon, are you okay?"  
  
Clutching at his sides Daemon continued to insanely chortle. "Of course not," he responded between gasps of breath. "I've been robbed of my dignity."  
  
"Well you know me Bastard, I'd give you some of my dignity but I don't have anymore."  
  
Daemon abruptly became silent. "The offers nice, though." He exploded again. All Lucivar could do was shake his head.  
  
It was almost a full minute until Daemon finally settled down, with only a giggle here and there escaping his lips. "Oh shit…"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I sound like those…things in there."   
  
"Things?"  
  
"Cana and her bitches, you dummy."  
  
"Oh."   
  
Daemon sneered. "Their constant aggravating cackles, laughing at Darkness knows what."  
  
"Laughing at us." Lucivar finished for him.   
  
"Puh, what gives them the right to laugh at us. They're not even an impressive coven of witches; they're clowns, a circus."  
  
Lucivar joined in with a snicker. "A circus of witch-bitches."  
  
  
  
"A circus of whore-clowns," laughed Daemon.  
  
"Come see the Cana's amazing acrobatic whore-clowns," Lucivar announced loudly to a non-existent audience, gesturing as a ringmaster. "They sing, they dance, and lift their skirts higher and faster to any man this side of Terreille."  
  
Daemon roared with delight. "And spread their legs wider than any Red Moon House lady."  
  
"An impressive trick indeed." The mirth became as thick as the smoke in the air as the dark-Jeweled brothers made one ludicrous joke after another. They were having such good a time that they became extremely annoyed when a male's tenor and frantic knock infringed on their fun.  
  
"Hello is somebody in there? I need to use the bathroom!"  
  
"Well find another one," Lucivar called out. "Or go outside!"  
  
"I thought I saw some nice plants in the hall you could water," Daemon chimed in.  
  
"What? I can't do that!" The horror in the stranger's voice caused Lucivar and Daemon to burst into laughter. "Aw, come on man. Let me in before I piss my pants. I don't know where any other bathrooms are and I don't really have the time to find one!"  
  
Feeling a measurement of sympathy Lucivar finally said, "Damn it, Daemon let him in."  
  
"I'm not letting him in you're closer to the door."  
  
"I don't feel like getting up," Lucivar remarked.  
  
"Neither do I," Daemon countered.  
  
The man on the opposite side of the door shouted, "I don't care who's in here. I'm coming in!"  
  
The door burst open with a kick, and the young man who could barely hold his bladder, angrily stomped right into the room, but halted short, face paling as he caught sight of Lucivar and Daemon's bored expressions. He nervously smiled. "On second thought, I guess I can hold it." Slowly he began backing away as if he was trying to escape a dangerous wild animal.   
  
"Hold up," Daemon said holding up one hand. "If you need to use the toilet, go ahead." To invite the young man, Daemon gracefully rose from the toilet and even raised the toilet seat.   
  
The young man looked hesitant. "With both of you in-" He paused and looked at Daemon back to Lucivar, who was still sprawled on the floor, then back to Daemon. He made his decision. "Screw it," he grumbled, slamming the door behind him.   
  
A relieved sigh was released along with the young man's bladder. He self-consciously straightened his back at Lucivar's muffled mirth, for a second he loosened up just enough to forget he was standing in the same bathroom with the most infamous dark- Jeweled Warlord Princes in Terreille.   
  
  
  
"Wash your hands," Lucivar's sing-song voice quipped.   
  
  
  
As if following orders, the young Hayllian Warlord immediately thrust his hands under the faucet after he flushed. After washing his hands, the young man turned to face the two princes. "I'm sorry for yelling at the door like that. You know, normally I would have pissed right there but I smelled the air and…" He laughed nervously. "You guys looked pretty 'laxed and…and I thought you might not kill me." He nodded at Lucivar. "That's some heavy green you got there."  
  
  
  
It was subtle but Lucivar caught the shred of hope in the Warlord's voice. He was barely more than a boy and pretty. Those two assets could be deadly to a young blood male growing up around an environment of vicious, lecherous, tainted witches. The Warlord still had a morsel of youthful energy; obviously he hadn't served in a court for too long. He would grow bitter, Lucivar knew, as his life became nothing but a toy for twisted witches to amuse themselves, and the glow of a promising youth would die. And for that, Lucivar pitied him, yet there was nothing he could do for him except-  
  
  
  
"You can finish this off." The intoxicating ganja smoke lingered in the warlord's face as Lucivar offered him the last of it.   
  
  
  
The Warlord was quick to grab. "Oh man thanks. I didn't want to go back in there."  
  
  
  
Daemon resumed his place at the toilet. "You ever smoke green before? 'Cause if you haven't, you might want to be careful."  
  
  
  
"The lighter the jewel, the stronger the effect," explained Lucivar.   
  
  
  
As the last of the ganja disappeared, Lucivar and Daemon came to know that young Warlord's name was Blake and he had only been serving in District Queen's court for only two months. Court service seemed to have left a bad taste in Blake's mouth, and he couldn't stop ranting about it after he smoked the last of the ganja while he lounged in the bathroom with the brothers.   
  
  
  
"Evil, self-absorbed shrews is what they are," Blake was saying. "They strip a man of his human rights, his pride and dignity, and most importantly, they strip us of the joy of what makes us male. Damn those…what did you call them Daemon?"  
  
  
  
"Whore-clowns."  
  
  
  
"Yeah whore-clowns," snickered Blake. "Ha, whore-clowns."  
  
  
  
Blake stretched his muscles and stood from his place on the floor next to Lucivar. "You guys know what? I have half a mind to go in there and give those bitches a piece of my…of my…"  
  
  
  
"Ass?" Lucivar jumped in lazily, shifting to an upright position.   
  
  
  
"No, my mind," Blake corrected, tripping over Lucivars legs.   
  
  
  
Daemon was quick to stop him. "Wait a second Blake, you barely have half a mind to stand. I think you should just sit down and keep quiet."  
  
  
  
"I think they'd much rather have a piece of your ass than your mind," Lucivar joshed, lightly punching Blake's leg.  
  
  
  
Blake resumed his seat on the floor and not a sound was made except for the occasionally giggle that managed to escape Daemon's lips. Blake and Lucivar exchanged glances and rolled their eyes at the sight of the Black-Jeweled Warlord Prince giggling like some kind of school girl. It was awhile until Blake broke the silence.  
  
  
  
"Have you guys ever thought about, like, why we…just are? Like, why we're here?"  
  
  
  
"To serve whore-clowns," muttered Lucivar, scratching the back of his neck.  
  
  
  
"No, I mean…," Blake paused to ponder. It was hard to think. "Like, what if we came into existence because somebody… just made us up. Like, from their imagination. Like, we didn't exist until they thought us up."  
  
  
  
"Like, I don't know what the name of Hell you're talking about," Daemon growled. "And stop saying like." He stood and ungracefully stretched before yawning. "I think we've lingered in here long enough. We should get back before the whore-clowns start pissin' and moanin' about where we're hiding."  
  
  
  
Lucivar inwardly groaned. Daemon was right. He could just hear Cana's raving now, and he wasn't in the mood to listen to it especially after his wonderfully spent evening smoking ganja. It also saddened him because it would be a long time before he had the chance to have some genuine fun with Daemon. Not destroying entire courts and cities fun, but easy-going, ale-drinking, stupid, careless male fun. Lucivar reluctantly gathered his wits. It was time to face reality. It was time to once again face the whore-clowns.  
  
  
  
"All right," Lucivar grumbled, forcing himself to stand before helping Blake to his feet. "I suppose I should gather what's left of my dignity and face the music. The horrible, depressing, ugly music."  
  
  
  
"Don't you remember Prick," Daemon said with a laugh as the three men filed out of the bathroom. "You don't have any dignity."  
  
Lucivar grinned nastily. "Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me." Oh well, he thought to himself. At least I have my ganja.  
  
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End note: So how was it? Did it make you laugh? Did it make you cry? (from boredom) Please grace me with your much appreciated reviews. BOO YA! Neka1 (the chic geek) 


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